Memories
by A. Minerva
Summary: Rory left Stars Hollow years ago, and no one knew why. Now she's back to find out for herself why she left, and she finds something she wasn't expecting. Let me know what you think, or not. It's really up to you.
1. Coming Back

No more coffee? He went through coffee like... he couldn't think of a proper metaphor now, but it was amazing how fast he went through coffee. Just when he had brewed a new pot, he saw that it was empty. He left the counter for a moment to get more from the store room. When he came back out, someone was at the door. She was looking around, looking kind of lost, watching the other customers before she finally found a spot at the counter and stared at a spot on the wall behind him. She was new in town, he was fairly sure. Nearly everyone in town ate at the diner at least once a week, some more, and he didn't know who this woman was.  
  
He looked at her more closely. There was something familiar about her, though just what he couldn't say. He was fairly sure they had never met. He didn't usually venture far out of Stars Hollow, at least, not anymore. Once in a while he went to Hartford, but he hadn't met anyone there. This woman was obviously from the city though. She had her dark hair was up in a severe yet flattering chignon, and she was wearing a black suit, a power suit: black skirt and jacket with black shoes: heels. And she was wearing tortoise-framed sunglasses. Definitely from the city. No one in Stars Hollow had fancy sunglasses like that. If they had sunglasses, they were the cheap plastic kind you could buy at the market for five bucks.  
  
The woman looked up at him. "I'll have a coffee, please."  
  
He turned around and looked at the pot. Still fairly empty, the new coffee hadn't finished brewing yet.  
  
"It'll be just a minute," he said, turning back to face the woman. "I'm brewing a new pot right now."  
  
She nodded and looked off over his shoulder again. "So, do you own this place?" she asked him.  
  
"I run it." It was the easiest answer. This fancy lady obviously didn't want to hear the story behind the diner.  
  
"Oh," she said. She looked confused and... it was hard to tell with her dark glasses, but she also looked a bit sad.  
  
"Where are you from?" he asked, trying to make conversation.  
  
"Why? Why do you ask?" she sounded almost afraid.  
  
"You're just obviously not from around here," he said.  
  
"Oh, no. I'm from... I live in New York," she said. She looked off again, distracted.  
  
"Coffee's ready," he said, reaching behind him and pulling the pot off the machine and setting a mug in front of her. He poured the coffee and set it back down.  
  
"Thank you," she said, more to the mug than to him. She took off her sunglasses and stared into her mug for a moment, cautiously taking a sip after a while.  
  
"Can I get you something else? A burger?" he asked.  
  
The woman looked up, startled. Her severe blue eyes almost paralyzed him. And then he realized... he looked deep into those eyes...  
  
"A burger? Oh, no. No, no thank you." She stared back down at her coffee and then reached out for her sunglasses with a trembling hand to put them back on. She raised the coffee mug to her lips, and just before drinking, murmered, "I'm a vegetarian. I don't eat meat."  
  
'Oh, OK." He looked at her eyes again, but the lenses of her glasses were too dark for him to be able to see anything. The woman dropped seventy five cents on the counter, three quarters in a neat stack and then grabbed her purse and walked out. He reached out for the quarters and walked over to the cash register. The coins were warm from her clenched fist. He hadn't had the heart to tell her that coffee was a dollar. It hadn't been seventy- five cents for ten years. 


	2. Change Isn't Good

She had expected that she would stall at the door, that opening it would be difficult, but instead she had just walked up, turned the knob, and pushed, as if there had been no time since her last visit. She opened the door to a familiar smell and a familiar sound: that bell. That warning that someone was entering. It had always been her listening for that bell, sitting at a table or at the counter, trying to guess who was entering before turning to look. Now everyone else was staring at her. The newcomer.  
  
She glanced around and realized that she recognized none of the other seven or eight customers. She felt a small pang in the back of her throat, but then reasoned. Ten years. More people may have moved to this small town in ten years. It did throw her off that she would know exactly none of the people here when she used to know everyone as if they were all one big extended family. This was your doing, she told herself. She straightened up and walked towards the counter and sat, just as she had so many times before. This whole experience was like a huge deja-vu.  
  
She watched the back of the man who was fiddling with the coffee maker. Flannel shirt, of course, but surprisingly no baseball cap. She could barely wait until he turned around. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, if she was going to wait for him to realize who she was or if she was going to tell him. It didn't matter much. She just needed something, anything, to make her sure that this town was still the same as it always had been, and what better gage than the same diner-owner that had been there since what seemed like the beginning of time.  
  
He turned and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't him. Where was he? She ordered a cup of coffee from the man who was standing behind the counter. Thoughts were bubbling in her head like in a cauldron. She casually asked if the man owned the diner. Maybe he was just hired help?  
  
But no, the man answered in the affirmative. And then he continued the conversation. Asked where she was from. What was she supposed to say to that? New York. It was the easiest answer. He didn't need to hear her story about how she ended up back here. He passed her her coffee, and she drank from her cup. She took off her sunglasses. The man began to stare. She fumbled for her sunglasses again and put them back on. She didn't want him to be able to tell if she started to cry. He asked if she wanted a burger. A burger, for God's sake. She hadn't eaten meat in over nine years, but she almost said yes. This place was getting to her. She had to stay detached. She didn't even remember why she had come. She grabbed her purse. This whole ordeal was like a bad dream. This town had changed. It seemed that the town she was looking for was gone. She dropped money for the coffee and hurried out of there. She wanted to cry in peace.  
  
Her car was parked directly in front of the building. She got in and flung her purse and her high heeled shoes into the seat next to her. She pulled out and began to drive, tears streaming down her face, ruining, she was sure, her mascara. She drove past Miss Patty's dance studio. There were no classes going on. The lights were out. She drove past Doose's. She saw no one she recognized on the streets. What was going on? Ten years wasn't enough to completely destroy something as perfect as what Stars Hollow had been.  
  
She reached for the nape of her neck with one hand, keeping the other on the steering wheel. She began to methodically pull the pins that were secruing her fancy hairdo, letting her long, dark hair fall to her shoulders. The tightness of that bun had been giving her a headache. She stopped the car and nearly cried out when she saw where she was. The house. The old house. She had lived there for so many years... sixteen maybe? More? She wasn't quite sure. She sat in her car for what seemed like hours, and then put the car in drive. She drove straight to the other place in this town she had once called her home. The Independence Inn. She sat in the front seat of her car, using a Kleenex to dab at her running mascara and pulling her hair back into a ponytail using some of the hairpins. She grabbed her shoes and her purse and walked up the front steps of the Inn. It was the one thing in this town she could trust to be the way she knew it would be. She knew it would be different, from the fire. And she also knew that her mother no longer ran it. That was the main reason she came. She wouldn't have to see Lorelai. She hadn't told her she was coming. They hadn't spoken in more than five years. 


	3. Taking a Step

In a town as small as Stars Hollow, news travelled fast, and everyone was wondering about the woman who had shown up one day and was staying at the old Independence indefinitely. That was what everyone was saying. That she had paid for a room and told them that she wasn't sure how long she was staying.  
  
No one stayed at the Independence anymore. It was strange that this lady was staying there. The Independence had been lovely in its prime, but now everyone stayed at the Dragonfly. First, everyone had gone there to give Sookie and Lorelai business, but slowly the Dragonfly had gotten beautiful and had become an amazing inn, more amazing than the Independence had ever been.  
  
The new manager of the Independence had been astonished and excited that someone was there to stay indefinitely. They hadn't been getting much business. Mostly, they just got business when the Dragonfly was overbooked.  
  
Rory had checked into the Independence and gone straight to sleep that day, not even going back downstairs for dinner. Why was she back? Why had she chosen now to come back? It reminded her of the second time she had read Catcher in the Rye. She had remembered loving it so much, but once she read it again as an adult, it had lost all of its charm and she now could no longer remember it the way she had. That was how it was with this place. She should have just stayed in New York. If she hadn't come back, then all of the old townspeople would still be here. She wouldn't have had to see all of the changes that had taken place in the last ten years. She would still remember it the way it has been when she had left.  
  
When she woke up the next morning, she realized that she had gone to sleep with her suit and makeup on. She took off her suit and layed it on her bed. She went into the bathroom to take a shower and wash her face. When she came out, she opened her suitcase and took out a pair of black linen pants and a white collared shirt. She French-braided her hair and remembered to put on her tortoise-shell sunglasses. She looked in the mirror. It was the same way she had looked for the past few years, but she suddenly yearned for the blue jeans and t-shirts she had left behind so many years ago, the ones she had left when she ran.  
  
She supposed that everyone had said that it was to be expected, when she left. She was exactly like her mother in every other way, why not in running? Of course, it hadn't been for the same reason as her mother. She wasn't a mother. No, she couldn't imagine herself a mother. She was a worker. No time for kids. What a thought. Rory with kids.  
  
Yes, people still called her Rory, although it hadn't been out of the question to adopt her actual name when she moved. Rory had strongly considered using Lorelai as her name, but then she realized that the less she heard the name, the less she would think about where she got it from. She signed everything Rory. She didn't explain where she got the name. People still said that it sounded like an unusual name, but instead of explaining the story about how she got the name when her mother was in the hospital in Demerol, she just nodded, agreeing, "Yes, it is."  
  
It was so confusing to her. Where was everyone? If she had seen some of what had been, she might have been able to approach Lorelai. Maybe she would have stayed at the Dragonfly instead. But the second she had seen that stranger behind the counter at Luke's...  
  
So what? She was just going to sit here at the Inn and do nothing? Then why was she here in the first place? No, she needed to do something. Anything. She barely thought as she stood and took her car keys from the table.  
  
She walked back down to the lobby of the Inn and walked out to the parking lot, climbing into her car and driving straight towards the Dragonfly. She parked her car and got out, walking towards the door. She took a large breath, readjusting her sunglasses, and then walked straight in.  
  
She walked up to the desk and took in a breath. It was Michel. Finally, someone she recognized. She approached the desk. "May I help you, ma'am?"  
  
He didn't remember her. No bother. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to be remembered yet. She glanced around the lobby. There was a piano player in the corner, a few bell boys and a maid in the lobby. But no Lorelai.  
  
"Yes, I'm um, looking for Ms. Lorelai Gilmore?" Rory said in a professional voice. Suddenly, the entire lobby went silent.  
  
"I'm sorry," Michel said, regaining his voice. "She is on... leave."  
  
"Leave?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you know where I could find her?"  
  
"No," Michel turned and pretended to busy himself with some papers.  
  
"Please? It's very important."  
  
Michel paused again. He slowly turned. "Probably at Hartford Memorial."  
  
"Hartford... the hospital?"  
  
"Yes." He turned again.  
  
"But... why?"  
  
"I cannot give you that information. I suggest that you simply write her a letter or give her a call at her house. She always returns her messages, eventually."  
  
Michel scrawled an address and phone number that Rory already knew on the back of a business card with "Lorelai Gilmore, Owner and General Manager" on the front.  
  
"Thank you," Rory mouthed, her beating heart getting in the way of her voice box.  
  
She walked out of the Dragonfly and got back into her car. She leaned her face down on the steering wheel and sobbed. The sound of her horn echoed through the parking lot, drowning out the sounds of her cries. 


	4. Happy Birthday, Rory

She had cried for at least five minutes. She wasn't sure why no one had come out of the inn to see why the horn was going off, but no one had. She dried her eyes with the heel of her hand and then started up the car. She drove to the house. The old house. Because she now knew two things about it: her mother still lived there, and she currently was not there. Those were good things. She walked up to the front door and searched around for the turtle with the key, half expecting not to find it. Nothing else in this town was the same, why should this be?  
  
But there it was, just as it had always been. When she saw it, picked it up, she almost started crying again, but she had no tears left. She just pulled the key out and opened the front door, as she had so many times before.  
  
It was exactly the same. It looked the same, it smelled the same. She took a deep breath, and it was as if she had three times as much space for air as she usually did. She wandered into the kitchen, the living room, up to her mother's room: it was all the same. Then she walked to the door that had once been so familiar, and stood in front of it. She reached for the knob, paused a moment, and then turned it. The door opened easily, and Rory looked around.  
  
'Wow, it's as if time has frozen in this room.'  
  
'It must be weird for you to be in this room now.'  
  
Rory sat on her bed and replayed that conversation between her mother and herself so many years ago. She knew exactly how her mother had felt then. . . except. . .  
  
'It was weird for me to be in this room then.'  
  
That part was completely untrue for Rory. So why had she left? She could barely remember. It had been a myriad of reasons, and at the same time, no reason at all. She didn't like revisiting those last few weeks. She had known already that she was leaving, but no one else had. Especially not Lorelai.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
"Another graduation!" Lorelai screeched, laughing as she pinned the hem of the dress she was making for Rory.  
  
"Another?" Rory asked, laughing. "What do you mean?"  
  
"It seems only yesterday that you were graduating from Chilton. . ."  
  
"Yeah. . . I guess. . ."  
  
"So, have you decided what you're going to do? Are you staying at Yale?"  
  
No. "I haven't decided, really. I know I'm taking at least the next semester off. I think I'm going to do a six month internship in New York."  
  
"You think?"  
  
"Well, it's that one I applied for and I was accepted, but I have yet to inform them whether I'm taking it or not."  
  
"God, you sound like a business letter. You'll do fine in New York."  
  
"So you think I should go?" Rory asked.  
  
"Yes," Lorelai said with her trademark smile, "I think you should go."  
  
***  
  
It had been then that Rory had decided, definitely, that she was leaving. Then six months had lead to a position at the Times. One year, she had decided, and then she would go back to Yale. But four months into what had seemed like a temporary job to gain connections and experience had sprouted a promotion at the four month point. She hadn't gone back to Yale.  
  
That had been one of the hardest things to tell Lorelai. In the beginning, Rory called every day, sometimes more, to tell her what was going on at her job. Every detail from her promotions to the fact that the new cups at the water cooler were smaller, and you had to take two to get the same amount as you got with one of the old ones.  
  
Time passed, and as the internship came to a close, Rory was having a hard time bringing up the fact that she had taken the position, or even that the position had been offered at all. Finally, Lorelai asked when Rory was coming back for the spring semester, and Rory had told her about the job.  
  
Lorelai had been elated of course, characteristic of her, and had insisted on coming to New York to visit and to buy a corporal wardrobe. When Lorelai had showed up, it was as if nothing had changed.  
  
But slowly, things had changed. Rory had less and less time available. She hadn't been to Stars Hollow in almost a year, since her graduation from Yale. Lorelai had come to New York for Christmas, but she demanded that Rory come back for the summer. It took three weeks for Rory to tell her that she couldn't afford to take a break, she was competing for another promotion.  
  
So Lorelai had come down again and camped out in Rory's apartment for the month of July. Rory worked almost all the time, and Lorelai shopped. The few days when Rory could afford to take time off, it was as if they were back in Stars Hollow, the indefeatable mother-daughter duo again, but the days when Rory came back from the Times late and she just wanted to eat dinner and go to bed, it was as if Lorelai was her small child. Rory finally realized what it must have been like for Lorelai at 22 with a six year old child.  
  
At the end of July, Lorelai went back to Stars Hollow, and Rory stayed in New York, working. She got the promotion. She was climbing the Times ladder faster than almost anyone before her. She hadn't known she would be this good at journalism, but she was.  
  
However, she realized as she climbed higher and higher that the more she worked, the less she had time for anything else. She barely dated, she called Lorelai less and less, and she never went to Stars Hollow. After a while, it seemed normal, more normal than her easy-going life in Connecticut had ever seemed, or so she felt now. She was running, running, running, but she didn't feel the need to stop and take a break. So she didn't.  
  
She worked her way up the ladder even faster, and in three years, she was one of the top editors at the Times. She could barely believe it when she pushed the door with her name emblazoned on in gold to reveal the mahogany desk with a black plaque reading "Rory Gilmore, Associate Editor" on it. At 25, she was one of the youngest associate editors ever. As a girl, she had never thought that she would like power this much, but she loved it.  
  
Weeks passed. Lorelai would come to New York on all the major holidays, but Rory didn't go to Stars Hollow. It seemed normal now. One would think that someone who had once been so attached to her hometown would want to visit it any chance she could, but she felt removed from Stars Hollow now. It was much more normal and convenient for Lorelai to come down.  
  
On Rory's 26th birthday, Lorelai came to New York. They met for dinner after Rory finished work, and they talked incessantly. Rory thought that it was normal, until their meals came.  
  
**Flashback**  
  
"So, you know, there's a huge festival coming up in Stars Hollow," Lorelai said.  
  
"Oh yeah? What is it this time?"  
  
"Um, a celebration of the essence of Stars Hollow. Taylor's really going all out. He even got Luke to put up a poster in the diner."  
  
"Wow, is that even possible?"  
  
"Apparently so." Lorelai paused. "It's in two weeks." She paused again. "I was thinking you could come up."  
  
"I have to work."  
  
"You know," she continued as if Rory had not spoken, "everyone really misses you. They haven't seen you in a while."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've been busy." Rory looked at her plate.  
  
"Busy for five years?"  
  
"This is a crucial time in my job, OK? I'm one of the youngest associate editors ever." Rory said, her voice slightly raised, finally looking up from her plate.  
  
"Yeah. . . so. . ."  
  
"So? So everyone's looking at me to mess up! Five years isn't that much. In a little while, I'll finally have my place set. Two more years, tops, and no one will be able to take anything from me!"  
  
"What is wrong with you?"  
  
"What?" Rory asked, astonished.  
  
"You've changed, Rory Gilmore. You are not the same person anymore. You are not the girl I raised, and you are definitely not the best friend I grew up with."  
  
"You don't like it? You don't like the new me?" Rory asked, flustered.  
  
"No, I don't," Lorelai answered definitively.  
  
"Then why are you still here?" Rory said angrily.  
  
"I don't know." Lorelai grabbed her purse and walked out of the restaurant, taking one last look at her daugher with sad blue eyes, the exact color of tears.  
  
"Happy Birthday, to you. Happy Birthday, to you. Happy Birthday, dear Rory. Happy Birthday, to you." The waiters sang, carrying out a huge chocolate cake, chocolate icing and all, with "Happy 26th Rory" written in coffee beans.  
  
*** 


	5. Room 306

Rory and Lorelai were both exceedingly stubborn, two of the most stubborn people on the planet. Back in Stars Hollow, the only thing that had gotten them to resolve a huge argument had been someone, usually Luke, telling them that they should. However, with Rory in New York and Lorelai back in Stars Hollow, there was no reason for either of them to pick up the phone and call. So they didn't.  
  
Five more years had passed, and they still hadn't made up. They hadn't called. They hadn't written. And now Rory found herself sitting on the bed she had left in the house she had left in the town she had left. But why? She had no clue.  
  
Rory smoothed the quilt as she stood and walked over to the bookshelf. All of the photos she had left were still there. Her and Dean. Her and Jess. Her and Lorelai. Wow, they looked young. Rory at seventeen, so Lorelai must have been... thirty-four? Rory in front of Lorelai, Lorelai's arms wrapped around her. They were both laughing. Rory picked the picture up and held it close to her eyes. It was as if, if she held it close enough, she could jump in. Jump back to that time.  
  
But why now? After five years of not caring if she saw Lorelai and ten years of not caring if she saw this town again, why now? Why come back? So many reasons, and yet none at all, all of which seemed trivial now that she was actually back.  
  
She walked back out of her room, out of the house, closing the door behind her and locking it, replacing the key in the turtle and getting back into the car. She drove, knowing only subconsciously where she was headed, not wanting to face it. Face what she might find waiting for her at Hartford Memorial.  
  
When she finally arrived, she got out of the car faster than she would have expected. She walked in the doors and up to the receptionist's desk. "Hello."  
  
"Hello, may I help you?"  
  
"Yes. I'm, uh. . ." Rory looked around the room, losing her train of thought.  
  
"Yes?" The receptionist pressed.  
  
"Sorry. I'm, uh, looking for Lorelai Gilmore."  
  
"Oh. Yes. Miss Gilmore. Room 306."  
  
"306. Thank you." Rory stood at the desk a moment longer.  
  
"The elevators are that way." The receptionist pointed.  
  
"Oh. That way. OK. Well, then, I'd better, go on over, to the elevators. Room 306, so that would be on the third floor?"  
  
"Yes, Miss."  
  
"Thank you." What was this? Rory was cool. Calm. Collected. Always. She hadn't acted like this since high school, maybe college.  
  
She got on the elevator and pressed three. She watched the little light as it moved from one to two and she heard a ding. That ding was like a jolt into reality. Oh. My. God. She couldn't do this! What was she doing, going to see Lorelai after all these years? What was this?  
  
Rory got off on the third floor and then ran to the fire stairs. She walked down half a flight and then plopped down on the cold stone, resting her face on the metal banister.  
  
"You all right Miss?" A 17 year old boy, an orderly, passed her sitting on the staircase. She tried to muster up a smile.  
  
"Yes, fine."  
  
"You want me to call someone?"  
  
"No, no thank you. I was just. . ." She stood and walked back up the stairs. "Thank you," she said over her shoulder.  
  
"No problem."  
  
Rory walked down the hallway and found room 306. She stood in front of it a moment. A bit longer. She looked at her watch and counted out two minutes by the second hand. She drew in a breath and slowly pushed the door opened.  
  
She forgot to breathe until she realized that she was out of air, and when she tried, she found she couldn't. Her breath caught in her throat like she was choking on it. She had to keep her hand on the doorknob. If she let go, she thought she may fall, smack, head on the linoleum. Pass out right there on the floor of room 306.  
  
"Hello, Rory." Calmly. Slowly. Normal. As if not a day had passed. As if she hadn't left at all. As if she was still twenty-one years old. Living at Yale. Coming home every chance she got. Coming home just to do her homework. Coming home for just a decent cup of coffee. She found her breath somewhere, and then, slowly, her voice.  
  
"Luke." 


	6. Mommy

"Luke." Rory tried to breathe but found that she had forgotten how. She dropped her handbag and reached behind her for the wall, hoping that it could hold her up. She searched and searched, but somehow the wall that had been right there a moment ago was gone. She parted her lips, trying to gulp for air, but she got the unpleasant sensation of one who was trying to breathe at the bottom of the pool.  
  
"Rory?" Luke said, looking concerned. She couldn't get over the fact that he wasn't confused to see her. He stood up and pulled another chair over to her, placed it behind her knees. She had forgotten how to sit. Luke walked around in front of her, grabbed her by the shoulders, gently pushed her into the seat. He kneeled down in front of her. "Rory." He put his hand on her wrist.  
  
She began to breathe again, rapidly, through her nose. She swallowed, and then her breathing slowed to a normal pace. "That's it," Luke said, still looking concerned, "Just breathe."  
  
She stared into his eyes, searching for something, what, she wasn't sure. "You're. . . you're not surprised to see me."  
  
"I figured you would come once you'd heard."  
  
"Heard? Heard what?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Both of them were completely confused. "Rory. . ." Luke started, "Why are you back?"  
  
"I. . . I don't know. . . why do you think I'm back?"  
  
"Oh boy. I figured. . . once you hadn't heard from Lorelai in a while, maybe you'd call Sookie or something, I couldn't find your number, I just assumed. . ." Luke was rambling. Atypical for monosyllabic Luke.  
  
"I. . . we haven't spoken. Not in a while."  
  
"What? What do you mean? She didn't tell me about an argument. . ." Luke furrowed his brows.  
  
"It's been a long time. Nearly five years." She looked at a square tile on the floor, unable to look Luke in the eyes.  
  
"Five. . ." Luke trailed off. "Your birthday? When Lorelai came into New York?"  
  
"Yes. How. . ."  
  
"She told me. I thought the two of you had made up? She said that you had called. . ."  
  
"No." She was ashamed now, although Luke didn't say any of this in a critical way.  
  
"I should have known."  
  
They were silent for a moment, and then Rory asked, "Luke, why are you here?"  
  
Luke cleared his throat. Then he stood and fidgeted with the collar of his flannel shirt, doing and undoing the buttons. Finally, he just took two steps to the side so that Rory could finally see who was lying in the bed.  
  
She stood from her chair, but it was like she was watching herself. She watched as Rory stood from the chair, and as Luke walked around Rory, behind her, and left the hospital room, closing the door behind him. Then suddenly, all she saw was Lorelai.  
  
Her mouth felt dry. Her hands felt dry. Her eyes were dry. She was blinking and blinking and she knew that she must look like she was crying. But she wasn't. She wasn't. She should be, but she was just trying to get her eyes wet again.  
  
She walked over to the bed, hovering. She reached out for the hand, the exact same color as the hospital sheets. Her hand hovered over the pale one without actually touching it. She wouldn't have even known that anyone was in the bed had it not been for the dark, dark, hair and the dark, dark, eyelashes. The lips were uncharacteristically white, as white as the porcelain cheeks. Lorelai looked like a doll, posed in the bed. She looked asleep, but not Lorelai asleep. Flat out on the bed, each arm lying next to the body. Perfect symmetry. Face relaxed, sheets pulled up under her arms and around her chest. Lorelai didn't sleep like this. Lorelai slept every which way. Leg up there, arm over there, hair and head half off the bed.  
  
Rory wanted to gulp, but her mouth was still dry. Why was she so dry? Everything was dry. Her skin was so dry it was shrinking over her. And this light was so bright. It was shining, fake and yellow in the whole room. Why was it all over the stupid room? The whole stupid room was covered with this stupid yellow light and she couldn't figure out why.  
  
She was angry. Why was she angry? She could feel her face scrunching up. She could almost feel her mother's cool hand on her forehead, "Don't frown, you'll get lines all over that pretty face I gave you."  
  
She finally lowered her hand onto Lorelai's. It was cool, but not the right kind of cool. It was plastic cool. New sheets cool. Not Lorelai cool. None of this was right. It was all wrong. And everything was still so dry. Why the hell was everything so fucking dry in this room? She couldn't swallow for fear of swallowing her own tongue.  
  
Then she saw a drop of water on her mother's hand. Then another. They were falling, falling, falling. Was there a leak? Why was there a leak in this room? This was a hospital, there shouldn't be leaks. Why was there a leak in her mother's hospital room?  
  
She heard a gasp. A cry. Like a small child catching her breath after having the wind knocked out of her when she fell, bam, on the pavement. Who was that? She thought she was alone in the room. What the fuck was going on?  
  
She heard it again, but this time, at the exact moment of the gasp, she tasted salt. Her mouth wasn't so dry. Neither were her cheeks, for that matter. Neither were her eyes. She reached up for her cheek and felt the wetness. She looked at her mother's hand. It all made sense now.  
  
"Mommy?" she said, through another gasp. She sat on the edge of the bed, not letting go of the hand. She was crying freely now, like she hadn't since she was maybe seven. She lay down, curled up in a little ball, her head on her mother's stomach. She cried, and cried, and cried, but no one was there to comfort her. 


	7. I've Seen You Cry

Rory woke up to the smell of strawberries, vanilla, and coffee. Lorelai-smell. She didn't open her eyes, but she felt the distinct shape of her mother's body next to her. She scrunched her forehead, trying to remember what was going on. It all came back. She closed her eyes even tighter.  
  
  
  
She slowly opened one eye, then the other. She saw Luke standing over her, a steaming cup in one hand. He reached out one hand and she took it, cautiously, like a small child. He led her out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him and the two of them walked in silence to the cafeteria. They sat and Luke handed Rory the coffee. She sipped it to be polite, but she didn't want any coffee.  
  
Rory. . . Luke tried to start.  
  
I think we both have a lot of explaining to do, Rory said.  
  
Yes. We do.  
  
I guess I'll go first. My story comes first, I think.  
  
OK. Go ahead. Luke seemed relieved that he wouldn't have to speak first.  
  
Rory suddenly realized that she needed the coffee that Luke had handed her: a comfort blanket, as it always had been. It felt like it connected Rory to _her_. She drank deeply and then she fingered her sunglasses. Slowly, cautiously, she pulled them off and set them ever so carefully down on the table. All through this, Luke did not make a sound, barely moved. He knew what she needed. He had always been good at reading people. He had always known what she needed.  
  
You know about the fight, she began. She looked to Luke, and he nodded. And you remember, when I lived... she trailed off, unable to name the town for fear of exploding. It was an irrational fear, but she was quite sure that if she said the name, she would explode. You used to be the one to fix the fights. You would make us make up. You usually made it happen. Made us be rational. Well, I was there, she was here, and we didn't have to fix it, so we didn't.  
  
I had planned to come back soon. As soon as I got settled in my job. Six months after that day, I would have been able to. The day my boss came in and told me about my new promotion, about the fact that I was basically free to do whatever I wanted and no one could touch me... I sat in my room for an hour trying to call. But... after a while... when you haven't called... it gets harder and harder to call... It had already been six months. Oh, who am I kidding? It had been much longer than that by then, hadn't it? It had started long before that. I guess that's why I'm back. To find out why. Rory was silent. She stared into the cup of black liquid as if it, like printer ink, would spell out the words she needed to know.  
  
Why you drifted apart?  
  
She shook her head slightly, but not to say no. Just to shake her head. Just to be able to move. Why I needed to leave her like she needed to leave Emily. That's the part that didn't make sense to me. I always understood why she left them. That made sense to me. There was me. There was the whole thing about her not belonging there. She always knew she would leave. It made sense. But me? I always belonged with her. I did belong with her? Right Luke? Rory sounded like she was going to cry.  
  
I... I thought so.  
  
So did I. I always thought so. There was never a doubt about that. So what happened? Rory could feel the tears coming, and she instinctively reached for her glasses, but Luke reached out, pinning her wrist to the table.  
  
It's OK, Rory. I've seen you cry.


	8. Blue

It seemed that it had been forever before Rory realized that she couldn't cry anymore. She felt dry again, but strangely relaxed. She felt her old self beginning to come back, the self that she was now realizing she had left at home with Lorelai.  
  
She looked up to Luke, who was squirming in his seat. She sniffed, wiping under her eyes for traces of mascara, and then, thinking better of it, wiping each eye with the back of her hand, smearing, she was sure, the eye makeup she had applied so carefully that morning.  
  
No... no... it's fine, he said, but Rory knew that he was glad that she had finally stopped crying.  
  
Rory trailed off.  
  
Luke squirmed again, and then he began to speak. So. Well... uh... I guess I'll start that day. The day she came back from New York.  
  


*~*Flashback*~*  
  


Lorelai walked into the diner, as she always did around this time of day. Luke knew that she had gone, again, to visit Rory in the city. It had been so long since any of them had seen her, besides Lorelai. But Lorelai was still proud. She always told everyone. Rory was climbing the ladder of the corporate world faster than anyone before her had, and Lorelai made sure that everyone knew it.  
  
Lorelai sat at a table by the window. Something was different. Something was wrong. Luke could sense it. He chose one of the larger coffee mugs, against his better judgement, and took the coffee pot off its heater before walking over to her.  
  
How was the city? he asked.  
  
Lorelai didn't answer. She just stared out the window without even taking the cup of coffee he had just poured.  
  
  
  
She didn' t answer.  
  
He reached out to touch her shoulder. She shrunk at his touch and then she grabbed his hand. He could feel his bones crunching against each other. She whirled around and grabbed his flannel shirt with her other hand. She stared at his face, searching for something. Reason. An answer to a question Luke didn't know. He wanted to answer it so badly, but he couldn't. Not if she didn't tell him what it was.  
  
He watched as her blue eyes overflowed with blue. Blue. Blue pouring out over the edges and cascading down her cheeks. She made no noise. Her expression did not change. He just watched as the blue poured out of her eyes. He reached out to her, pulled her up slightly. She flew into his arms, hugging him, holding him close to her. She released his hand and instead grabbed his shirt from across his back, holding it so tightly that he wasn't sure if he would ever get it back. He gently rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. Trying to stop the silent yet violent sobs that were taking over her small, delicate body.  
  
He reached for her back and then slowly guided her up the stairs to the apartment and let her cry and cry and cry for at least an hour before, sobbing, she recounted the entire story of the terrible fight she had just had with her best friend in the world.  


*~*  
  


Dr. Spencer to room 306. Dr. Spencer to room 306.  
  
306? Why was that number so familiar. The pensive look that Luke had been wearing suddenly turned to one of panic. He was trying not to show his fear, but she could see it in his eyes.  
  
  
  
The two jumped up simultaneously and bolted down the hall, the clicking of Rory's heels on the tile matching the pace of the long strides Luke was taking back to room 306.


	9. The Diner

Business had been slow recently, and he wasn't quite sure why. He stood, leaning against the counter. There wasn't anyone in the diner. Hadn't been in... God knows how long. Two hours? It had never been like this when Luke ran it, but there you go. He was a necessary part of this town, as much as he had hated to admit it.  
  
He rolled the sleeves of the flannel shirt he was wearing up past his elbows. He moved his feet around. He examined his fingernails. He checked his watch. He looked around for something to do. Wipe down the tables? But they weren't dirty. He had wiped them down during the last lull, a few hours ago, and then cleaned the only two that had been used shortly after those customers had left. Make coffee? For who? Himself? No, he didn't drink coffee. And there was obviously no one coming in for a little while, so why waste it?  
  
He decided that the most productive thing to do would be to fill the ketchup bottles. He got out the huge bottle of ketchup he used and unscrewed all the tops. Amazing how the most productive thing he could find to do had been to fill ketchup bottles. It still amazed him that he worked in a diner. Not that he had had other plans. He guessed that was how he had ended up like this. Lack of planning.  
  
Suddenly, the door swung opened. He jerked his head up to see who was entering. Kirk Gleason. Followed quickly by Patty LaCosta and then by Sookie and Jackson Melville. Was it that time already? He checked his watch, listened for a tick. Useless piece of crap.  
  
He walked over to get the orders of the customers who came in at the same time every day. He knew that they would shortly be followed by Taylor Doose, Lane Kim, by others as well. They had all come from the same place they all came from this time of day. The church.  
  
Every day for the past... God knows how many years, there had been an hour long vigil service from two to three in the afternoon for Lorelai Gilmore. People of all denominations, even people with no religion at all went to the service. He'd been a couple of times, but he felt like a fake, so he sent his prayers from the diner. Once in a while, Luke would come back to the diner, brew some coffee, brew a cup, and leave it on the counter. No one would touch it. That was Lorelai's cup. Like letting Elijah in for dinner.  
  
He went back into the kitchen and started to make the orders. He looked out the little window to the people who had congregated in the diner. Solemn faces, all of them. No spark of happiness. He wasn't going to lie. The town wasn't always like this. Most of the time, people just sort of wandered around, minding their business. Often, when these people, the friends of Lorelai, were at church, you couldn't even tell that anything was wrong. Like the other day, when that city woman had come in and raced out. He remembered stuff like that now. The highliights of his existance.  
  
And then, sometimes, in the late evening, it seemed as though everyone would take their posts, and even these people would seem happy. But he could see the sadness in their eyes over their friend. He had always been good at reading people. Came from being a quiet kid, he guessed. He had always been a people watcher, and as he watched these people now, he could almost read their thoughts, they were wearing them on their faces, clear as a sign.  
  
He brought the orders out from the back and set them down. The group thanked him, ate, payed, and left. He walked over to the tables and began to wash them off. This routine had gotten monotonous and annoying, and even he admitted it. It was at times like this that even he missed Loreali. She had made things interesting in this town, and with her gone, or as Luke demanded you put it, on temporary hiatus, nothing was too interesting here.  
  
He threw the dishrag down on the counter and brewed some coffee, poured a cup in the special blue mug and set it down on the counter.  
  
Come back Lorelai, it's dull as fuck without you around.  



	10. Falling

Dr. Spencer to room 306. Dr. Spencer to room 306.  
  
306? Why was that number so familiar? The pensive look that Luke had been wearing suddenly turned to one of panic. He was trying not to show his fear, but she could see it in his eyes.  
  
  
  
The two jumped up simultaneously and bolted down the hall, the clicking of Rory's heels on the tile matching the pace of the long strides Luke was taking back to room 306.  
  
She wanted to ask. Wanted to find out what had happened, what Luke was going to tell her before this happened, but she couldn't. She couldn't find the words. And she could tell by the expression on Luke's face, urgent, anxious, scared shitless... that she didn't want to know. Not yet. Not after all this.  
  
They rushed to the room, and when they arrived, there were already doctors, nurses, orderlies rushing in and out.  
  
What is it? Elaine! What is it? Luke asked desperately to a nurse he apparently knew.  
  
Mr. Danes... One moment. We don't know...  
  
What is it? Luke asked urgently, grabbing the nurse's arm as she tried to walk away.  
  
Her heart rate, I think, Mr. Danes. It's out of control.  
  
Is that bad? Luke asked, looking like he already knew the answer.  
  
We don't know yet. Just... go and get some coffee in the nurse's lounge. I'll send someone up to get you as soon as we know something.  
  
Elaine! We need those syringes stat! A doctor called from inside the room. Unwillingly, Luke let the nurse go and shoved his arms in his jeans pockets. Suddenly, they were alone in the hallway, just Luke and Rory. Her palms were clammy, her face was dry. She felt planted to her spot. she asked, feeling like a small child wandering through dark hallways to her parent's room after a nightmare.   
  
She didn't have to ask the question. He could see it in her eyes. They don't know, Rory. He took a huge breath, removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair, and put his cap back on. One day she just...  
  
***Flashback***  
  
Luke looked over to the window table. He already knew what he would see... the same thing he had seen for weeks now. Lorelai sitting at a table for two, by herself, with a mug of coffee. She didn't drink it, just ran her finger over the edge of the mug. He figured that she and Rory had had another fight: it was Rory's 28th birthday, he knew, a few days ago, and Lorelai hadn't gone down to New York. In fact, she had been going down less and less this past year... or was it two years? Before, she had gone down at least once a month, usually more. Now, when she went down, it was a short visit, and she never had any news. Never wanted to talk about it. He supposed it must be hard for her, for Rory to be so far away when they had been so close. He had tried to tantalize her with burgers, fries, french toast, pancakes, all of her old favorites, but she wouldn't eat anything. She just sat at that window, looking out into the street. He was getting worried now. She ate now and then, but never as much as she used to. In fact, he could hardly believe it, but he didn't think she was eating enough. One wouldn't think that Lorelai could have gotten any thinner than she used to be, but she was. She had aged with Rory gone... when Rory had been there, the two could have been sisters, but now...  
  
She was still gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, but she looked so sad all the time. Her eyes looked old, like she had seen the world and hadn't been impressed.  
  
Luke leaned into the kitchen and pulled a plate out. Turkey club, fries, pie. He brought the plates over to Lorelai and placed them down in front of her. She didn't even acknowledge him.  
  
It's almost Thanksgiving, he said.  
  
  
  
I was thinking... about putting up some decorations this year, he continued, waiting for some jab from her. Trying to make sure that the old Lorelai wasn't gone.  
  
  
  
Want to help me put them up?  
  
She looked at him. Smiled. It was a genuine smile... but sad. He couldn't explain it. No, thanks Luke. She looked down at the plate in front of her, picked up a fry and put it down, then stood. She reached for her bag, and Luke watched as she almost fell out of her high heeled shoes. He grabbed her elbow, to steady her. Reached around her back. You OK?  
  
Yeah. Thanks, Luke. She smiled again. That sad smile. He yearned for that grin he had taken for granted for so many years.  
  
I'll see you for dinner? he asked.  
  
That smile... except weaker this time. She walked towards the door, teetered again. The clothes and shoes she had used to wear with pride, that had made her beautiful and strong-looking now looked like dress-up clothes on a child. She reached for the doorknob, and Luke watched as her knee buckled. She tripped, started for the floor. Only... something was wrong. She wasn't trying to steady herself. Gravity had taken over. Luke ran towards her and caught her just before she hit the floor.  
  
Lorelai! Lorelai, are you OK? There was no answer. Her beautiful blue eyes were closed, like she was sleeping. Her gorgeous ivory skin had gone white as skim milk. He put his ear to her lips. She isn't breathing! Someone call an ambulance! Lorelai! Lorelai!


	11. Loose Ends

A/N: Yes, yes, I'm an awful person. I'm sorry!!!!!! I've just had a really hard term. I'm in finals now, but I figured I've kept you waiting long enough, and I've gotten reviews even over my hiatus asking me to continue. So here you go!**  
  
** Rory's mouth was dry as Luke told the story. She almost wanted to cover her ears with her hands and scream like a small girl, but at the same time she had to hear the story. She had to hear what she had caused.  
  
Although in her head her hands were covering her ears, in reality she just stared at them, palms up, as she sat in the hallway, crouched on her knees like a little girl. If the people she knew from home could see her now...  
  
What was that? She started, couldn't believe that thought. The people from home? The term that had seemed so logical, so right a mere few days ago had suddenly been rendered... wrong. These were the people she knew. These were the people from home. They knew her. Lorelai. Luke. Like he'd said, he'd seen her cry, and on more than one occasion. But what about the other people? The others in the town? Where were they? Rory could hardly believe that everyone, Kirk, Lane, Patty, Babette, Taylor... that all of them were really gone.  
  
Luke. He would be able to answer. As unsure she was that she wanted to know the answer, she had to ask him what had happened.   
  
Mr. Danes. The nurse with whom Luke had been speaking before came out of the room, wringing her hands. She's talking again.  
  
Luke pulled the hat he had been wringing in his hands back onto his head and marched into the room with powerful strides. Rory struggled to stand, her limbs refusing to cooperate and help her up. Shakily on her high heels, she followed Luke into the room. She walked up to him and stood by him, turning to look at the bed. Almost at once, she whipped back around and buried her face in the familiar flannel shirt.  
  
It was even worse now, for not only did Lorelai look pale and sickly, but they had hooked various tubes up to her, one up her nose and several different IVs in her arms.  
  
She's stable now, the doctor said,   
  
She was talking, Luke finished.  
  
Rory finally found the strength to look up. There were about three nurses, the doctor, and Luke in the room. Luke was looking right at Lorelai, hope in his eyes. Rory clutched his arm, but looked at the woman in the bed, wanting to reach out and hold her again, or even more, to be held by her again.  
  
And she... she... Rory dug her fingers into Luke's arm. Lorelai was speaking. Softly, strained, but still the most beautiful sound that Rory had ever heard. She was certain she would be crying now if she wasn't dry from all the crying before.  
  
Luke walked forward, unwittingly dragging Rory along with him, who was still clutching his arm, refusing to let go. He reached for her hand, careful not to move the needle, and sat in the chair that was conveniently placed next to her.  
  
Come on Lore. Come on Lorelai, wake up. Please, Lore.  
  
And she... I... we...  
  
Lore, you can do it this time, come on.  
  
She... she... Her voice sounded broken, like she was a child talking in her sleep, talking in the midst of a terrible nightmare. Then suddenly, all movement was lost, and she fell back into the sedated state she had been in when Rory arrived.  
  
Luke sighed and held her hand a moment more before softly kissing her opened palm and running a hand across her forehead. He looked up at the nurse sadly.  
  
Maybe next time. She spoke more this time, the nurse said, looking sadly back at Luke before she filed out with the rest of the nurses and the doctor.  
  
Yeah. Yeah, maybe next time. Luke stood and looked at Lorelai for one more moment before turning back to Rory. You look tired. We can go back to Stars Hollow if you want. You can shower and we can get a bite to eat at the diner.  
  
Will we come back?  
  
In the morning. Nothing more will happen with her for a while.  
  
Rory nodded and followed him out. After a few steps, she asked, What was that? Why was she doing that?  
  
  
  
Rory nodded.  
  
She does that from time to time. See.. Luke sighed, They think she's in some sort of coma. It's kind of like the shock war vets go through when they get back... or that's the best metaphor they can come up with. And basically, that is as close as she's gotten in a while to waking up. She'll do it about... once every two weeks or so. And we think that... if we talk to her enough... coax her out of it... she'll wake up.  
  
  
  
They were silent again as they arrived at the car and got in. How long? Rory asked.  
  
Luke sighed again. Almost three years. They say that the longer she's out... the worse chance we have of getting her back.  
  
Rory nodded again, barely processing the information. Then she asked the one question that had been lingering for a while. One that seemed to be of lesser importance, but one that she had to ask all the same. Luke? Why are you at the hospital so much?  
  
  
  
I mean it seems like you know the people and the protocol very well... so I just assumed...  
  
Yeah, uh... well... you see...  
  
_Flashback  
  
  
  
Lorelai was sitting by the window again. It was two weeks after Rory's 27th birthday, and she'd been kind of quiet recently. Slowly but surely, for about a year now, she'd been losing some of that Lorelai spark.  
  
Whoa... zoned out a bit there. Lorelai laughed, but it wasn't the same laugh. Not the same one she'd had when Rory had been there.  
  
Are you OK, Lorelai?  
  
Yeah, yeah. Fine.  
  
Luke paused. You know, if you ever need someone to talk to... I'm here.  
  
I know, Luke. Thanks.  
  
Lorelai only stayed a few moments longer, and then she got up to leave. It wasn't until about midnight that he heard from her again.  
  
Luke! Luke!' Her voice startled him out of bed, and he looked at the clock. 12:00. He looked out the window to see Lorelai in pajamas with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, standing in the middle of the street. One sec! He called, and he made his way down the stairs.  
  
He unbolted the diner door and let her in.   
  
Couldn't sleep, she offered as an explaination. Luke ran his hands self-consciously through his bed-hair. Can I make you some coffee?  
  
How about hot chocolate?  
  
He walked behind the counter to prepare it. This whole ordeal seemed kind of surreal. And then suddenly, she was over his shoulder.   
  
He turned around. Looked into his eyes. And before he knew it, her mouth was on his, and then her arms around his neck. They forgot about the hot chocolate.  
  
End Flashback_


	12. What She Missed

Rory smiled as she heard the story, as little as she felt like smiling. Luke looked mortified as he finished the story, wringing his cap in his hands and removing and replacing it over and over again.  
  
You neglected to mention that before.  
  
  
  
So that day? The day she fell?  
  
Two weeks before our one year anniversary.  
  
  
  
They were both silent. Rory searched for more words. Do you live-  
  
At your house? Rory nodded, although she had been planning on calling it her house. Lorelai's house.  
  
I did... for a while at least. About... five months after we... got together.  
  
Rory added, smiling. Luke smiled back, weakly.  
  
I moved into an apartment closer to the hospital after she... fell.  
  
Oh. Why not back to the diner?  
  
I had already rented out the apartment.  
  
Oh... that guy who was there...  
  
You, uh, went to the diner?  
  
Yeah, I met the new owner.  
  
New owner? I still own it... he's just running it for me.  
  
Rory thought back, puzzling over the conversation she had had with the guy in the diner. Oh... I guess he said that...  
  
So... you met? Luke was watching her, looking for her to answer some other question, Rory was sure, but she couldn't figure out which one.  
  
  
  
Oh. That's good, I guess. Must have been weird for you.  
  
Yeah, it was, a little. I was so confused when I got back. Rory sat back further against her seat and watched as the scenery along the highway sped past. I guess I was expecting time to have frozen here. I changed, of course, but I always expected to be able to come home to Stars Hollow. The name of the town came easily out of her mouth, but she sat back in shock afterwords, listening to the words as they echoed in the air. They were almost stale, but preserved, as she had expected the town to be. They came out like a winter coat after the summer months. It seems so strange and so new, coming back out of the closet, but then, after mere moments, it feels right.  
  
It's not all that different, Luke said, I mean, except for this...  
  
Rory prompted, I didn't see anyone I knew...  
  
Oh... you probably came back during the vigil. Around three?  
  
  
  
Yeah, they hold a vigil in town for her every day at the church. That's why you didn't see anyone you knew.  
  
They all go?  
  
Of course.  
  
Wow... that seems so... surreal.  
  
She's well-loved Ror.  
  
Rory nodded. So... they all still live here?  
  
Pretty much, Luke said, nodding. Sookie and Jackson had two more kids. Davey's, let's see, 12 now, and Claire is 4 and Ellie is 2.  
  
Wow... Davey's so...old.... Rory marvelled at what she had missed, smiling in spite of herself.  
  
And... let's see... Lane-- is it OK if I talk about this? Luke looked over, obviously concerned, but Rory just smiled and nodded.  
  
I want to hear about it.  
  
OK. Well then. Lane... well, she got married, just like Mrs. Kim always wanted.  
  
A Korean doctor?  
  
Yeah, an opthomologist if I remember correctly. She met him after college... when she was on tour.  
  
On tour? Rory asked in almost a whisper. She couldn't believe that she didn't know about this. That she had missed it.  
  
Long since retired, but yeah, Follow Them to the Edge of the Desert had a pretty good fanbase. It was a small tour, just in the continental US, stopped at all the big cities and they did one night in Stars Hollow in the town square. Luke smiled as he remembered it. They already had fans, groupies and stuff who were following them around, and Taylor had a fit. It was great. They put out one album, but then Lane met Tae-Woo, so she left the band. One of the boys, the young blond one, he had a pretty good solo career going for a while, but they're all married now.  
  
How do you know all of this?  
  
The diner was their stomping grounds for a while, and they still come in now sometimes. They all still live in the area. The Kims come in at least once a week still.  
  
Wait... Kim? I thought she got married...  
  
Yeah, she did. To a guy named Tae-Woo Kim. Didn't have to buy new stationery. Luke shrugged. They have a kid and everything. Her name is Jay... she's two.  
  
Lane with kids... Rory muttered under her breath. Who else?  
  
Well, Kirk got married too. They live with his mother. No kids, but they have a lot of cats...  
  
Rory giggled in spite of herself. She then stopped and sat up straighter as she saw the sign that announced that they were entering Stars Hollow.  
  
Luke started, Where do you want to go?  
  
Are there going to be people in the diner? Rory asked.  
  
  
  
Is there food at my house?  
  
There should be. I keep it stocked for when I come back about once a month. You know, for maitenance and stuff.  
  
Could we just go back there then?  
  
You're going to have to face them eventually, Luke said, turning down the road Rory had requested. That is why you came back, isn't it?  
  
She didn't even know anymore.


	13. Home Sweet Home

As they pulled up to the house, Rory couldn't speak. Yes, she had been there a mere few hours ago, even if it felt as though days had elapsed since she had gone to the hospital, but now, now that she knew more, it was as if she was coming back for the first time again.

They got out of the car and walked to the door. Rory reached for the turtle, but Luke had already pulled a key out of his pocket and opened the front door. It swung opened, and they stood on the stoop for a few moments before Luke let Rory walk in first and then closed the door quietly behind them.

Rory walked to the kitchen, and Luke followed. Rory sat at the kitchen table, her hands folded, just like she had at the table in the hospital cafeteria, except that her sunglasses had long since been moved to her purse. She reached for it and drew them out, lying them carefully on the table, and then searched the bag for the case that she had neglected to place them in before. Her fingertip nicked something slightly sharp, but instead of recoiling, she pressed it, savoring the feeling of something after feeling so numb for so long. She dragged her finger along the edge of the object, trying to remember what it was, and then it hit her. Slowly, deliberately, she drew it out, and held it without looking. She then placed it on the table and looked.

_Lorelai Gilmore, Owner and General Manager_

It was the business card that Michel had given her earlier that day. Hard to believe that it was still the same day, but there it was. She looked up from the card to Luke, who had busied himself with the coffee-maker. Just as she was about to say his name, he turned away from the coffee-maker and it began to make that familar sound of coffee brewing. He looked at Rory, his elbows resting on the counter behind him, waiting for the question that he knew that she wanted to ask.

I... I have another question. Luke asked, invitingly.

Before I came to the hospital, I went to the Dragonfly.Mmm hmm.I saw Michel there, and I asked him about... about where she was. She couldn't bring herself to say yet, or even So that's how you figured it out.Yeah. He didn't recognize me when I asked for her. He said... he said that she was on leave, she looked up, trying to recall Michel's exact words. And he said that I should call here or write a letter, and that she always got back to her messages, eventually. She was proud in spite of herself for remembering the exact words. Came from all those years of required memorization at Chilton and Yale. How... how could she answer her messages like that?Oh... that would be me. I check messages, read mail... He trailed off and walked over to the coffee pot and poured Rory a cup. She didn't speak, knew that there was more to the story. He came over to the table and handed Rory the cup. She drank as he started to speak again.

I didn't at first. At first I just sort of let everything pile up. Didn't want to think about her not being able to do it herself. But then there came a point... the doctor recommended that I get everything in order for her around here... take care of bills and stuff, and so I started with that. Then I started checking the messages, writing them all down for her on this huge legal pad and getting back to people when they needed it. By then... by then there was a huge amount of other mail showing up at the house, so I started to take care of that too... getting back to people and filing all of it.You filed all of it?Well... yeah. I mean, there was just so much, and I couldn't throw it out. She would kill me. She would want to read it all herself. She'll want to read it all herself.Yeah... I guess she will. For the first time that day, Rory smiled. It was a small smile, tentative, but it was real.


End file.
